Our Diary
by Who Died of Ennui
Summary: It is Ginny's first year at Hogwarts, and, amazingly, she discovers an old diary in amongst her school stuff. We all know how that ends. But how did Ginny's interaction with the diary actually turn dark? Chapter 4 UP. Please R&R!
1. Discovery

**Our Diary**

**Chapter 1 -- Discovery**

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Author's Note: So. Yes. I dare try to write another non-parody fic. This is basically what would have been written in Tom Riddle's diary between him and Ginny, in her first year (Book Two). How he possessed her and all that blather. What fun. 

I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Ginny Weasley collapsed on her bed after a long day of running around Diagon Alley, searching for the multitude of books, potion supplies, and other materials that were required for her first year at Hogwarts. Idly sorting through her pile of books, she discovered a small diary that she had not seen before. After a moment of lazily feeling about for a quill and some ink, she opened it and wrote...

* * *

August 31

Dear Diary,

Where did you come from, little red book? I think Mum got you for me as a surprise when we were at Diagon Alley today. I don't know, you were just there, in with my other books. I like you, though, and I think this year I'll write in you every day! All my innermost thoughts and feelings. Hee hee. But of course no one will ever read this. Or they'd better not!

_Hello_.

What was that? I didn't write that. Did I?

_I'm sorry to startle you. No, you didn't write it. I did._

Who are you?

_My name is Tom. I am your diary._

Oooh, spiffy! So you mean you will write back to whatever I say to you?

_Yes. Think of me as... not so much a diary, but as a friend. A portable one._

How did you get in my diary, though?

_How do you think? Magic._

That sounds so clichéd.

_I'm sorry. So, Miss...?_

I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley.

_Cute name. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Ginny._

And it's nice to meet you, too, Tom.

_So is there anything I can help you with? Any problems, dilemmas...?_

Oh, no, not really.

_Come on. Of course you have something on your mind. Who would write in a diary if they didn't have something on their mind?_

You have a point, I suppose. Well, the only thing I can think of right now is that... Oh, I feel so silly saying this.

_Ginny dear, I am a book. Tell me._

Oh, er... Sorry, my palms are sweating in an embarrassed way, and it's making it a bit difficult to hold my quill... OK, well, the only problem I can think of right now is that ... well, there's this boy--

_Ah. One of those problems. Tell me, what's his name?_

Er. Harry. Harry Potter. He's very nice, and...

_Harry Potter, eh?_

Do you know of him?

_Oh, no. I was just reflecting on his name in an entirely unsuspicious manner._

Oh.

_So you like this boy, then. And do you have any other problems that are worrying you?_

Well, you know, the usual. Family, being overshadowed, blah.

_Oh, really? That's not so usual. Tell me about it._

God, you're a good listener. OK, well. I have six older brothers, all of whom are more interesting or special than me in some way. Not very good for my sense of self-worth, you realize.

_Oh, you poor thing._

You're just saying that.

_No, I'm genuinely interested. Do tell me more, Ginny._

I will-- oh, sorry, I have to go eat dinner with the aforementioned family, sorry.

_But you'll tell me more later? Please?_

If you could see me, you'd observe that I'm blushing from all this attention you're giving me. You're really very sweet, Tom. You'll be here later, then?

_I laugh. Where do you expect me to go, dear?_

Of course. Silly of me. Well, I'll write to you later, then...

_I'll miss you._

Heh. I'll miss you too. Bye.

_Goodbye, Ginny._

_

* * *

_  
She closed the book, smiled to herself, and went downstairs for dinner, feeling happier than she had in quite some time.


	2. The Meeting

**Our Diary**

**Chapter 2 -- The Meeting**

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* * *

**  
Having survived her mother's over-enthusiastic farewell, Ginny climbed aboard the train to Hogwarts and found a compartment. After a moment's hesitance, she opened the diary and began to write...

* * *

September 1 

Tom, are you there?

_I'll always be here._

I think we discussed this already. Oh well. Maybe I'm being insecure, but...

_You have a right to be._

Do I? Why?

_Why not?_

I dunno. It seems you've out-logicked me, with that clever "why not " response of yours.

_Ha. Well, thank you, I suppose. So what are you up to?_

I'm on the train, going to Hogwarts.

_September 1st at Kings Cross. Of course, how silly of me. That date and location have to be written in stone somewhere, always the same..._

It was the same in your day?

_Yes. How did you know I went to Hogwarts?_

Logic.

_Now I'm the one who has been barraged with logic. You're really quite a clever person to have worked that out, Ginny._

Thanks. I thought it was rather obvious, but...

_Well, obvious to you, perhaps. Anyhow, what are you doing now on this train ride of yours?_

I'm sitting alone in an empty compartment on the train.

_As opposed to sitting alone in a crowded compartment? Or sitting with a host of other people in an empty compartment?_

Oh, shut up.

_Sorry. Couldn't resist. So why are you alone?_

Everybody else had gone somewhere. I seem to have completely lost Ron and Harry. I didn't see them get on the train, at any rate. I didn't even see them at Platform 9 3/4...

_Ron?_

My brother. Or one of them.

_Ah. Do you like him?_

Sure, he's not that bad. He's only a year older, so we have maybe more in common than I do with, say, Percy or somebody.

_Percy?_

Another brother. Disturbingly studious and ambitious. He's five years older.

_Sounds like an interesting person._

Not at all, really, no. Let's just say... he likes making speeches. And once he told me enjoyed studying. Who in their right mind enjoys studying?

_Nobody in their right mind. Only ones in... their left mind? I don't know._

Their wrong mind, maybe.

_Maybe. Tell me, do you have any friends at Hogwarts yet?_

Not yet. I'm sure I'll meet people soon.

_Well, if people know you like I know you from only these two days' conversation, then I imagine you'd never be left alone. You have... personality._

Thanks.

_I bet you're pretty, too._

Er, I don't know...

_I'm sure you are. Tell me, what would you consider your best feature?_

Hm. Maybe, I don't know. My hair...

_Why?_

It's unusual. Bright red. Just because... not everybody has bright red hair.

_Nice. I told you you're pretty._

You don't know that I am.

_I think you are._

Thanks... I guess. And what about you? What do you look like?

_I've got black hair, green eyes..._

That's what Harry is like, too.

_Really?_

Yeah.

_Ginny, is there any chance we could meet?_

Yes, but how in seven hells would we do that?

_If you're willing..._

I am.

_Look into the square._

_

* * *

_  
A square appeared on the page. Ginny stared at it, and suddenly she felt it grow much larger, or perhaps she grew much smaller. Twirling like a leaf on the wind, she was flung into it. She landed heavily on a soft carpet of leaves. Looking around her, she saw she was surrounded by trees. A soft mellow light seemed to come from all around, faint shadows arcing across the ground in a fascinating pattern. By the look of the green buds covering all the trees, it was early spring.

"Wh-where am I?" she asked confusedly.

A boy stepped out from behind a tree. He was quite tall and very handsome. He resembled Harry Potter, in some way Ginny couldn't quite put her finger on. But he was many times more attractive than Harry, she thought.

He walked towards Ginny, and held out his hand. "Hello, dear," he said. His voice echoed in her head.

She took his hand. It was warm, and much larger than her own. "Tom?"

"Yes, it's me. And I was right, Ginny -- you are exceedingly fair."

"Th-thanks. And you, Tom... you're quite good-looking yourself." He smiled.

Then, a slight breeze blew around him, and the smile turned into a sadder expression. He said,"I feel in the air-- where we currently are can only be occupied for a limited amount of time, what we called an 'unstable semi-dimension.' So I fear I must send you back, dear, sadly short as this meeting has been. But there can be others. And you'll continue to write with me?"

"Of course, Tom, of course!"

He smiled at her and held out his hand, again, in a gesture of farewell. She, again, took his hand, but this time he spun her in, slowly, as if they were dancing. Finally he was embracing her from behind. She sighed, and then, looking conflicted, turned and kissed him.

After a short pause, she embarrassedly turned to flee, before realizing that she didn't know how to get out of the forest.

"Er, Tom? How do I...?"

He smiled sweetly at her. "Ginny, you silly one. I'll show you how. In a moment."

He walked over to where she stood, and, pressing her against a tree, returned her kiss, and gave her about seven hundred surplus in addition to that.

Once they were done, he stepped back, his eyes shining oddly. "Don't ever leave me, Ginny," he said.

"I... I wouldn't. I won't." She made as if to turn, but he caught her shoulder.

"Ginny, I love you, with all my heart and soul."

"I-- I--" She blushed.

"Don't rush it," he said. "But now-- I must let you return..." He snapped his fingers, and the scene began to shrink. Or maybe Ginny grew larger. And then she landed on the soft cushions in the train compartment. She paused, and then wrote.

* * *

That was interesting. 

_Yes, it was._

Nice to meet you.

_And you as well._

I should go now...

_If so, then goodbye, Ginny._

Tom...

_Yes?_

I think I love you.

* * *

She snapped the diary shut, feeling an odd fluttering in her stomach. What would he say, next time they spoke? She felt... almost guilty, or trapped, somehow, and she didn't know why. But she also felt a great longing to be with him again... 


	3. Harry

**Our Diary**

**Chapter 3 -- Harry**

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**  
Disclaimer

J.K. Rowling owns all these characters. I just elaborate on 'em. And in this chapter, I use small fragments from _CoS_, and those little bits, too, belong to her. So HA!

Author's Note

So it seems I'm finally updating... sorry it's taken so long, but I've been distracted by random blather. But I have re-re-read _CoS_ to check up on chronological things, and I will probably be updating much more frequently now.

Thanks to all those who reviewed. And, ultra-violet-catastrophy: Yes, I agree, it is slightly odd that an 11-year-old would up and kiss this older guy. But, remember, she has been raised in a family of seven children, all of whom are male and older than her. So not only would she feel rather alone in this family (and not having attended wizarding school yet, she probably would not have many friends of her own age who are magical, who she thus could be completely open with), but she's probably been encouraged to emulate her brothers as well, and thus may try to be more mature than she actually is.

Erm. I'm confusing myself with that clumsy explanation of my reasoning. But -- on with the story. Enjoy.

* * *

All throughout her first day of classes at Hogwarts, Ginny's mind kept wandering back to Tom. During Transfiguration, she was twice reprimanded by Professor McGonagall for not paying attention, but nonetheless she could concentrate on little else. She wondered, many times, whether she shouldn't just take out the diary and write to him, but what if someone noticed those words she had not written appearing there on the page? Or what if he invited her to visit him inside one of those unstable semi-dimensions again? 

So instead she simply eyed the diary, tucked inside her school bag, and waited impatiently for classes to end, scarcely paying attention to the curious and friendly glances of her new classmates.

When she was finally free, she fled back to her dormitory, and pulled out the diary, nearly dropping it in her eagerness. She opened it and wrote...

* * *

September 2 

Dear Tom,  
I am returned from my first day of school...

_Ginny, dear! How was it?_

Quite dull, in fact. I don't think anybody likes me, even in my own House...

_Oh. By the way, which House did you end up getting sorted into?_

Gryffindor. I was so happy, because that's the House all my family has been in. I was going to write and tell you last night, but, er, my brothers and Harry and Hermione all insisted on giving me all this food and singing loudly and stuff, to celebrate. And I felt a little bit... you know... awkward after what I said yesterday evening.

_No need to feel awkward, dear._

Yeah. But, so, I had high hopes for today, based on that jollity last night with all my brother's friends. But today, nobody in my year would even really talk to me...  
_  
How terrible!_

It might have been because, honestly, I kept thinking about -- oh, Christ. Never mind, I'm not going to finish that; it embarrasses me.

_Ginny, do remember that I am a book and that I will not tell anybody. Nor will I judge you or, hah, ignore you like your new classmates seem to be doing._

Yeah, I know. It's just -- did you really mean what you told me, when I met you yesterday?  
_  
That I love you with all my heart and soul?  
_  
Erm. Yes. That.  
_  
Yes. I did mean it. And I still feel that way.  
_  
How can you be so sure? You've only known me a few days.  
_  
It has to do with, being an intelligent book, I am omniscient, and have knowledge of what is destined...  
_  
How do you mean?

_Let's just say that I am sure._

Um. OK.  
_  
Ginny, love. Do tell me about your first day of school. So no one bothered to talk to you at all?  
_  
Well, this one kid who sat next to me in Charms did. Colin Creevey, I think he said his name was.

_Do you like him?_

Not really. He was sort of irritating. He somehow knew I was Harry Potter's best friend's sister, and he seemed creepily awed by that.  
_  
I hate how people only like you because you have "connections" or are friends with the right people.  
_  
Exactly!

_But do continue, my sweet._

So Colin kept waving his camera at me. Actually, it was sort of funny. Professor Flitwick -- he teaches Charms -- got so irritated by Colin flapping around me that he waved his wand, making Colin's camera float up in the air so as Colin could not get it.

_That must have been hilarious._

Heh, yes, it was. I didn't think you would be amused...  
_  
Of course I am. You should be more confident in yourself, dear.  
_  
I try, but I'm sort of shy.

_You don't seem it._

I actually am. Especially when I'm around Harry -- I get all nervous and start dropping things and being disgustingly clumsy.

_Ah, Harry again. Just to help me, ah, understand the attraction... why don't you tell me some about what you know about him, why you like him, and such?_

Okay. I first saw him when I went with my family to see Ron off to Hogwarts, last year. He asked my mum how to get through Platform 9 3/4 -- he was raised by Muggles, so he didn't know -- can you imagine? And, I don't know... It might have been partly that I've known his story ever since I was two, practically.  
_  
His story? Do tell.  
_  
Really? I would have thought everybody knew that.

_Not I._

Oh. Well, when he was only a year old, You-Know-Who killed his parents. And he tried to kill Harry too, But somehow the spell You-Know-Who was using rebounded, and destroyed You-Know-Who instead. And that left Harry with this odd lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

_That sounds like some doxy tale._

I know. But it's true.  
_  
Who is -- was -- this You-Know-Who you mention?  
_  
He was an evil wizard, a terrible man who killed a bunch of people and tried to take over, and stuff.

_How descriptive. But does he not have a name?_

We're not supposed to say it.  
_  
What silliness. If he is indeed destroyed, what harm can it do to say his name?  
_  
I don't know.

_Write his name, here on the page, dear._

* * *

Ginny did not know how it happened, but she found herself compelled to write the name, unable to resist doing the task... 

"Lord Voldemort," she wrote slowly, hand trembling. For that brief moment, she would have liked nothing better than to be safe and held in the arms of Harry, or her mother, or _anybody_, as far away from the little red book as could be possible. A shudder ran down her spine as she struggled to control what her treacherous hand was doing, and then -- it was over. Her hand flew back and hit her in the face before she could cease her frantic attempts to free it from whatever was controlling it. The ink melted into the page and disappeared, and she could have sworn the book felt somehow a bit heavier on her lap.

She wrote, again, her hand shaking with combined fear and anger now.

* * *

What the hell was that, Tom? 

_Of what do you speak?_

Don't try to play stupid with me! I trusted you! And suddenly I had no control--

_I assure you, dear, I did nothing. It is ridiculous to think that a mere book could control your actions! It must have been an impulse on your part._

It is ridiculous to think a book could control me. I suppose it was just some impulse of mine.

_Good girl._

Er...

_So this crush of yours, Harry Potter, killed Lord Voldemort._

Please! Don't say, don't even write, the name!

_Would you mind if I took the liberty of comforting you, dear?_

* * *

Ginny felt horrified by the thought, although she could not discern why. Surely, she thought, there was nothing wrong with seeing him again. She must have just frightened herself in the process of writing You-Know-Who's name. And, she told herself, she knew she lo-- cared for him. No reason to be so silly about the whole thing, like some ... ridiculous little child. And Tom had said he loved her with such confidence... so undoubtedly he would never do anything to hurt her... 

"OK," she wrote, and, mollified slightly by the pleasantly familiar little square that appeared on the page, she gazed at it, and felt the ground dropping away as she flew into the image.

Once again, she landed softly, only this time on a surface that seemed to be a thick sort of fabric. She sat where she had landed for a few moments as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Finally, she could discern that she was in some sort of richly decorated room. The walls were hung with tapestries that, while bearing no recognizable pattern, reminded Ginny of a bed of serpents. She shook off the fanciful idea that they were watching her, and stood, looking around for Tom.

He was sitting, head bowed, at a low wooden table upon which rested a delicate silver candle, which was burning with a bright coppery flame. As she approached, she was amazed to see equally silvery tears at the corners of his eyes.

"Wh-- Tom?"

"Ginny, I am sorry. I am unspeakably sorry. I saw that I frightened you--" he waved aside her noise of protest, "--so I beg of you, my love... Please believe that I would never do anything to hurt you. I do love you so."

The sight of this gorgeous boy, so much older than her, crying because he thought he had upset her-- Ginny bit her lip, and pulled him into a fierce hug. "Tom, darling. You didn't upset me. And I believe you. I know you would never hurt me..."

He grabbed her chin and turned her face towards his own. "Do you love me with all your soul, Ginny?"

"I--" She looked at him, at the unendingly sad but somehow impatient expression in his eyes. "I do." The ghost of a smile made its way onto his lips, and, suddenly, he moved forward and kissed her. One of his silvery tears fell onto her cheek, and, for some reason, it hurt as though a burning match was pressed there. She pulled back and brushed at the tear, and then felt herself falling into nothingness before landing back in her dormitory. Her cheek still hurting sharply, she smiled vaguely and saw that Tom had written something...

* * *

_Ahem. I am sorry for that odd little display of emotion, Ginny. I just-- I know what it is like to be alone, even amongst a crowd of people... having no one really know you, or understand those common everyday things you have to endure..._

No one's ever understood me like you, Tom...  
_  
And I doubt anybody else ever will. But I, on the other hand, will always know how you feel...  
_  
And I think I know how you feel, too, most of the time.

_I sincerely doubt it._

I-- I didn't mean--

_Oh no, I am not attacking you, love. But I think you will have to write with me quite a while longer before you can truly know how I feel. Ah, and now I do detect footsteps. One of your dormitory-mates seems to be coming. So fare thee well, dear Ginny._

I love you. It's so much easier to write that in a book like this, where the ink disappears just after I have written it, leaving no visible trace of the affection I have for you.

_How very amusing. And goodbye, sweet Ginny!_

* * *

Ginny closed the book just as the door to the dormitory opened, and a small dark-haired girl walked in, smiling shyly at Ginny. 

"Hi, I'm Tricia," squeaked the girl. "And you're Ginny Weasley, right? You know Harry Potter!"

Ginny nodded, frowning, and remembering what Tom had said about those people who liked you only because you knew someone famous. Tricia looked slightly put off, but continued smiling hopefully. She chirped, "Hey, do you want to go take a look at the lake? I'd love to see the giant squid someday!"

Ginny looked at her coolly, and shook her head vaguely. Muttering something about homework, she tucked the diary under her arm and left Tricia standing there and looking highly confused.

As she strode away, fuming, Ginny reflected on how very right Tom had been...


	4. Argument and Academia

**Our Diary**

**Chapter 4 -- Argument and Academia** (and, er, apparently too much fun with alliteration...)**  
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Disclaimer: Yep. JKR still owns all these characters. 

Author's Note: I am having fun writing this story, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. But nevertheless ... I would greatly appreciate it if, after reading this, you would leave a review, with feedback telling how you liked it, how it could be better, whether it is utter crap, etc. The last chapter, last time I checked, was read or viewed by 71 people, and has thus far received one review. So ... I'm not complaining, but it is nice to receive reviews. I write for you. Sort of. ... (/end rant)

Also, I just thought you ought to know that I keep typing 'dairy' rather than 'diary'. If you're bored with the plotline and the story in general, try spicing it up by replacing 'diary' wherever you see it with 'dairy'. Not that dairy is a particularly interesting thing, but ... nevermind ...

Enjoy, as always.

* * *

For more than a week after Tom had wept and declared his love, Ginny did not write in the diary. She felt strangely reluctant to return to him, and yet at the same time she wanted to, but instead she got lost in her own thoughts all day long. Because of her lack of paying attention, she was doing very badly in most of her classes, and if her brother (and Harry's) friend Hermione had not stepped in once or twice to assist her with her homework, her teachers would undoubtedly have written to her parents about her poor performance. 

Finally, one week and three days after her last encounter with him, she retired early to the dormitory and finally returned to the diary...

* * *

September 12 

Dear Tom,

Sorry, it's been a while, I've been busy...

_Oh. Is that so. Well, don't worry about poor old Tom, who gives his heart to you and the next thing he knows you've buggered off for ten days. Oh, no worries._

I was... I don't know. I've spent a lot of time thinking over stuff.

_Do tell._

Well, you know. I did say I loved you. I still do. But I think that's a different thing, somehow. I don't know. Because, well, there's Harry--

_ What are you trying to say?_

I don't know! It's just -- I see Harry everyday, he is so real, so stable. You, on the other hand -- why, you're almost a fictional character.

_And that automatically causes me to have no feelings, then?_

No! That's not what I mean.

_What the hell do you mean, then?_

Tom! I don't fucking know! I don't -- all this time I haven't been writing with you, every waking moment, sometimes even in my dreams, I have been trying to figure out how the fuck I feel about you, about Harry, about everything...

_And has all this profanity-coated thought brought you to any conclusions?_

I -- sorry. And no, it hasn't brought me to conclusions, but more ... slightly more definite areas of confusion.

_What are these?_

Well, I know -- I think I know -- that I -- um...

_ What?_

Oh, if you must know... ay. I -- I think I am in love with Harry, or something similar...

_And what of me, eh?_

I love you too. But this -- in a different way. I have known you for a few days. Harry and the fantastic tale surrounding him I have known since I was knee-high. And when I met him, saw his famous face looking so confused, that day I saw Ron off to his first year at Hogwarts... ever since then, this feeling has been growing inside me.

_... and?  
_

Really, Tom. Can you imagine the hero of your childhood turning out to be just some kid, some handsome lad who -- I don't know. It just intrigues me how Our Great Savior, Killer of You-Know-Who is actually a real person, with his own moods, his own friends, enemies, likings, pet peeves, and -- am I making any sense?

_Slightly. I think I see why you like that boy. But what of me?_

You, Tom ... I came to the conclusion that the way I feel about you is more like ... well, you know, if I were to read a novel, and one of the main characters is so well written that I almost think he is real, and thus develop a love for him. But he isn't real, and my love for him isn't relevent in the real world. You see? That is how I feel about you, I think.

Tom? Are you still there...? I don't mean to hurt you or insult you or anything, I was just telling you how I feel.

_Fine, fine. But ... do you remember when we kissed? Was that an illusion?_

I don't know. It could have been.

_Were my tears for you false ones?_

I --

* * *

She stopped writing as suddenly, the place where his tear had fallen upon her cheek burned with a painful intensity. She dropped the diary, and pressed both hands to her cheek. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but she blinked furiously and bit her lip to keep from crying out.

* * *

What the bugger, Tom? 

_Just demonstrating my point. I am not some character in a novel, nor am I substanceless mirage. Remember that. I am as real as you, only confined in this book._

I ... understand. It's just strange.

_I think that someday I could leave this book, if the, ah, proper circumstances arrive._

Oh, that would be lovely. If there is anything I can do to help, feel free to ask.

_I shall do so. For now, just keep talking to me, telling me all those interesting little secret details of your life._

Hah. They aren't interesting, but they are certainly secret. Anything I tell you, you promise never to reveal to anyone else?

_Now, who would I tell, dear? And how?_

I know. But ... would you promise?

_Maybe. _

Tom!

_I'm being what I believe is known as 'coy', you see._

Ah, yes...

_But tell me, now. Now that we have argued over the sordid details of our relationship, dear... how has school been going for you?_

Oh. Relatively terrible.

_Yes?_

I've been distracted by my ponderings during all my classes, so I've been getting pretty bad marks. And I swear all my classmates are avoiding me...

_Ginny! I don't want to sound like your mother, but even if you must stay up all night, every night, studying, you must get better marks! Your studies are important. Knowing how to performspells, brew potions ... and of _course_ how to defend yourself against the Dark Arts ... you must learn these! Please, for me... try to concentrate a little harder..._

I will try.

_Good lass. Now go study._

I will, Tom. Thanks for the advice.

_You are most welcome, love. Now, go!_

* * *

She shut the diary, and obediently opened her well-used second-hand copy of _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling, immersing herself in its words, in preparation for some thing she was pretty sure they would be tested on in Transfiguration class the next day. Eventually, she fell asleep with her face pressed into the page, a determined expression still on her face.  



	5. Exploration

**Our Diary**

**Chapter 5 -- Exploration  
**

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Disclaimer: JKR has the ownage. Amazingly, that hasn't changed. 

Author's Note: It's been _far_ too long since I've updated. I am going to try to update more frequently from now on, though. Honestly.

Please forgive my attempts at writing dialect. I'm not very good at that aspect of conversation.

Enjoy! Fill your lives with the glory of this story! or... read it... or something...

* * *

Directly after classes, Ginny ran up to her dormitory, and collapsed on the bed. Her school bag bulged with at least five very heavy volumes. Her face was so pale that her skin seemed stretched tight against her skull. Her freckles stand out alarmingly, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. She fumbled under her mattress, and pulled out the little diary.

* * *

September 14 

Tom...

_ Hmm?_

Sorry I didn't write yesterday. I stayed up all night working on schoolwork, like you told me to...

_All night? Good girl._

I think I'm all caught up, now. All my teachers were rather startled.

_Fine._

So... I did what you said. Does that make up for... what I said yesterday?

_Not entirely. But it makes me feel better... that you care enough about me to follow my advice. How are you feeling now?_

Oh god. I'm so tired, I could sleep for the next month and still want a nap... I've never stayed up all night before!

_Well, congratulations. Remember this: good students must work all night in order to learn enough. You want to be a good student, correct?_

Yes, Tom.

_How many nights would you stay awake for me?_

What kind of a question is that?

_Idle curiosity._

Er... I don't know.

_Very well. But, now, Ginny dear, I suggest you rest._

I'm really not tired...

**_Rest now._**

* * *

Her eyes immediately fluttered shut, the book still open in her hands. A few minutes passed, during which her mouth twitched frantically. Finally, she became still, and her eyes opened again. Instead of their normal blue color, they were now a sharp green. Her eyes focused and scanned the room with a calculating gleam that looked immensely out of place in her young face. 

She stood up, and strode to the door. Twisting the knob viciously, she left the room and ran down the stairs.

As she ran, she thought: _We have success. An inferior mind -- weakened even more by exhaustion -- it is laughably simple to enter._

Her newly green eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried to recall the ancient, unchanging hallways of the school. If she took the stairs to her left... then ducked into the passageway behind that tapestry of a confused monk... down a few more stairs, and she would be outside.

She reached the small door that she remembered led to the outside, and kicked it open. Her mind clicked through a mental checklist. _She has always been sustained by whatever small newts and animals she can find in the Chamber. But perhaps to bring Her some fresh, red deer meat... and we must take care of the roosters..._

Reaching a decision, she marched rapidly towards a small wooden hut that she recalled as the abode of the groundskeeper. In her day, he had been a rather timid, lightly bearded man who had a remarkable connection with the animals he worked with. He disliked the company of humans, and thus, she had been able to safely bring meat and dispose of roosters without his interference or questioning.

In her day, the chickens had lived in a small coop behind the groundskeeper's hut. She walked purposefully in that direction. Suddenly, a man-- a massive beast of a man-- emerged from the hut. _Surely they would not let one of impure blood work as groundskeeper._

He saw her, and ambled over to her. She noticed a vast ring of keys attached to his belt. _Yes, that inhuman thing must be the groundskeeper..._

"All righ', Jahnny?" he greeted her jovially. "Wha're you doin' down 'ere?"

Her mind raced. _What would that little sap be doing down here, if she were in control?_

"Oh, nothing much! I was just wondering if maybe you'd seen Harry around somewhere!" she said, carefully making each sentence end in a cheery trill.

The giant groundskeeper chuckled. "No'm, I have not seen 'im. But I wi' tell 'im you was lookin'."

Ginny forced her voice to sound nervous. "Oh, no, thanks! That's really not necessary! I'll find him myself! Bye!"

_Damn. I can't get Her the meat now, with that oaf watching me. And going after the roosters is even more impossible. But we needn't hurry things -- it is several weeks until we will need Her. And these things must be done with careful dramatic timing._

She walked away from the groundskeeper, carefully shuffling her feet in the way she imagined Ginny's timid personality would. She wove her way back to the castle, and it was not until she was sure she was out of the groundskeeper's sight that she resumed her quick stride. She made her way to Ginny's dormitory, and carefully laid down upon the bed. Her body twitched, and relaxed. The diary slipped out of her hand, and closed.


End file.
